Footsteps
by ewells4
Summary: This is a companion story to Heartbeats (a continuation of sorts). It starts off with 4.13/5.01 but then quickly jumps to 5.05 and continues through 5.11.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a companion piece to Heartbeats. Same style, different POV, different allegory . . . . Although** the first part takes place around the 4.13/5.01 mark, after that, the time frame is exclusively 5.05 through 5.11. I've broken up the story into two chapters to make for an easier read, but it's actually supposed to be one continuous piece. Both chapters are going up at the same time.  
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****Thank you to those people who suggested continuing the first story. I hadn't really considered it until I read your comments. **To everyone else, thanks so much (as always) for reading and for reviewing.** **Next up, I'm thinking about doing a lighter multi-chapter story. Time is a bit of an issue, but I'll try to post again soon.  
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><p><em>Andy lifted her foot, preparing to take a tentative step forward. Then, as she'd done more than a few times already, she hesitated and dropped it back into place beside the other foot. It was only one step, but it was a big one, and she was afraid of what it meant—afraid of what that step and all that came after it would require of her. Ahead, the dense forest beckoned, charming her with its shadowy allure. The cool, mossy embankments and lush canopy of trees called out to her, tempting her with the mysteries that undoubtedly lurked behind every formidable tree trunk and gnarled bush. <em>

_As enticing as the forest seemed, she was well aware that it was also replete with untold dangers. Inside the leafy perimeter, the landscape was dotted with traps and pitfalls just waiting to ensnare unwary travelers. Very little light filtered through from above, and the prospect of not being able to clearly see what lay ahead was daunting. So Andy hesitated at the forest edge, worrying that the journey into its unknown depths might prove too much for her._

_She looked back over her shoulder, questioning why she was even considering going forward alone. Behind her, a field of closely-cropped grass stretched all the way to the horizon and probably beyond. Above it, there were long stretches of gauzy, white clouds that allowed just enough sunlight through to provide the predictable warmth to which she'd become accustomed. To say that the field wasn't pretty would be doing it an injustice. After all, it was quite lovely to look at, and many people had said as much. It was reliable and consistent, and she knew it well. She wondered if it might be better to just stay where she was, secure in the field's grassy expanses. _

_On the other hand, as she swung her head back toward the forest, its rugged beauty compelled her forward in a way that was nearly impossible for her to resist. Instinctively, she felt that although navigating through its untamed recesses might prove precarious at times, the payoff at the end of her journey had the potential to be so much more rewarding than anything she'd ever known._

_Andy felt pressure to make a quick decision as she hovered indecisively along the seam between field and forest. Should she stay or go? If she stayed, would the comfort and familiarity of the field ever be enough to fully satisfy her? Would she always look over at the forest edge and regret her decision to stay away? _

_Without any further thought, Andy took a decisive step into the forest. As the dried leaves crunched beneath her shoe, she felt a small burst of confidence. Her decision had been made.  
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"I love you. I love you. You're my story. Sam, _you_." The words tumbled off of Andy's tongue, and as terrifying as they were to her, there was also relief in hearing them said out loud. Her words were a formal acknowledgement of a secret she carried deep within her, and with its release, she immediately felt lighter . . . and heavier. As she kissed Sam on the forehead and ran her fingers through his hair, she clung to the desperate hope that those words weren't the last ones she'd ever say to him.

"Officer, you're gonna have to move back." As it turned out, the paramedic's directive would be a recurring theme during the twelve hours that followed. Other than those few harrowing hours at the diner, Andy spent most of her time lurking in the hallway near Sam's room experiencing an odd sort of companionship with the drab hospital walls and cold, hard chairs. She felt raw and stripped-down—like a tiny, hollowed-out version of herself. If Sam never came back to her, would she always be divided and incomplete?

Never, during the year they'd spent apart, had she considered what it might feel like to actually lose him—to know that he could be completely erased from her life, from her world, from her everything . . . . While she hovered in the hallway waiting to find out if he'd live or die, that realization smacked Andy over and over again, each time with a fresh intensity. Even if he wasn't with her, she'd assumed he would still be _somewhere_, and now, when faced with the truth, her entire body recoiled at the prospect of losing him altogether. She wasn't sure she could even exist in a world that didn't have Sam in it.

From somewhere on the other side of her fear that he wouldn't recover, Andy also wondered what would happen if he did pull through. Would they try again? Would he even want to go down that road with her? Was _she_ equipped with what she needed to try and make things work a second time? Certainly, putting their shattered relationship back together wouldn't be without its challenges, and those challenges were enough to leave her feeling apprehensive about the prospect of them hurting each other all over again.

Of course, the takeaway from the past day was that life was too fragile not to seize every opportunity for happiness. In one day, Andy had seen three people get shot, and one of them had died. If there was a message in all of that, it wasn't subtle. Life was a gift, and they should be taking advantage of every moment they had to get it right. Even if Sam's shooting hadn't awakened her to that notion, the kids from the diner certainly would have. The image of Zack being carried out in a body bag was a poignant reminder that not everyone got a second chance. So Andy forced herself to acknowledge that all fears aside, she'd be an idiot not to try again with Sam if that's what he wanted.

When the nurse finally let her into his room, Andy took that as a good sign. It meant he was stable enough for visitors. So she readily relocated her silent vigil from the hallway to the chair beside Sam's bed, thankful for the visual confirmation that he was doing okay. Having him right in front of her, looking solid and very much alive, went a long way toward appeasing Andy's frayed nerves.

Before hustling off to deal with another patient, the nurse had offered a very vague prediction that Sam would probably wake up "soon," leaving Andy to wonder if that meant five minutes or five hours. As it turned out, "soon" wasn't very long at all. According to Andy's watch, it was seventeen minutes and twenty-four seconds exactly. Sam stirred, and the machine beside him beeped, confirming that something significant was happening. With sweaty palms and a racing pulse, Andy watched him exhale and open his eyes. She desperately needed to re-establish that connection between them so that she could feel whole again.

As Sam turned toward her, the recognition in his eyes shot straight through Andy, soothing the more restless parts of her soul and restoring a sense of balance to her world. Then he started talking, and she found herself clinging to every syllable. Each word was a fresh reassurance that he was still there with her.

When he told her what he wanted, she readily agreed with him. She didn't want to waste any more time either, and she certainly didn't want to be sad anymore. The second Ford's bullet had ripped through Sam, it tore open Andy's soul, ruthlessly exposing feelings and emotions that she'd been suppressing for more than a year. She could no longer deny—no longer _wanted_ to deny—that she loved Sam beyond all reason. If he still had feelings for her, there was no way she wouldn't try to make things work with him. In spite of the doubt and fear she felt, she realized that moving into the unknown with him was better than going anywhere without him.

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><p><em>Several steps in and Andy surveyed her new environment cautiously, still hovering close to the relative safety and familiarity of the forest edge. She suspected that the woods ahead were only a means to an end. And what was on the other side? She had no idea, but she knew it was something she wanted, a thing of great value that would make her journey worth the effort. An unexplainable desire urged her forward, quietly assuring her that everything would be okay if she could only get going. <em>

_Andy looked ahead, noting with disappointment that there was no well-worn path to serve as her guide—only a tangled mass of fallen branches and underbrush beneath the thick foliage above her. As she hung back near the edge of the forest, she hoped she'd made the right decision. She was firm in her resolve not to turn back, but she was just as firm in her fear of the unknown. So even though she took a few steps here and there, they were sporadic and careful. Unfamiliar with the shady nooks and deceptive dips of the forest, she lacked the confidence required to adopt a faster pace. She was there in the forest and that was something, but still, she reminded herself of the need for caution._

Andy was angry, festering and resentful of the situation in which she suddenly found herself. She'd given Duncan _every_ opportunity to succeed. _Every_ chance to prove himself. _Every_ shot at becoming something other than a screwup. She'd wanted all of those things for him and selfishly, she'd also wanted them for herself. After all, she was his training officer, which meant his failures were her failures. So she'd glossed over his rather comprehensive list of deficiencies in her reports, hoping that he'd suddenly turn things around and start acting like a real cop. And in the end, all that her efforts had earned her was a big, fat complaint filed by the very same screwup she was trying to protect.

Although she initially focused her ire on Duncan and the unfairness of the entire situation, eventually, she had to own that she was also incredibly frustrated with herself for creating such a colossal mess. Her own part—the part that only Andy knew—weighed heavily on her. Sticking her neck out for the rookie had been a huge mistake, a mistake that would likely cause everyone to question her judgment and her credibility when the truth came out.

Andy tried to keep her frustration buttoned up tightly, but inside, she was a churning mix of barely-concealed hostility and resentment that threatened to spill out every time she opened her mouth to speak. Working closely with Sam wasn't exactly easing her burden either. She couldn't seem to shake him off. No matter how surly or abrasive she got with him, he just kept coming back for more. Unlike most people she knew, he wasn't satisfied with a curt, "I'm fine," because he knew she wasn't.

Somehow, in the midst of her bitter ramblings and snide remarks, it occurred to Andy that Sam was working her over. How many times had she told him she didn't want to talk? And yet, he kept asking . . . . Worst of all, though, was that he seemed to be waiting, and she assumed he was just biding his time until she crumbled and told him exactly what was bothering her.

She really didn't want him to know about the omissions in her reports. Of all people, his opinion mattered most, and she just couldn't bring herself to make him privy to something that might tarnish that.

Initially, Sam's attempts at drawing her out had been limited to subtle inquiries that she was able to easily deflect. But then, he followed her to the kitchen and what happened there was something truly impressive. That's when he really started to push, maneuvering around her in a way that easily announced that he knew which buttons to press to get her to where she needed to be. As he systematically wore her down, she fired back at him with the hostility that had been brewing since she found out about Duncan's complaint. If she hadn't been so angry, even she might have cringed at how bitterly she said, "Okay. Thank you for sharing that. That's a great story—novel, even—but you might wanna reconsider how that's reassuring to _me_."

Seemingly unfazed by the venom suddenly aimed at him, Sam persisted, and she had to admit that he was right. Just because someone brought a frivolous claim against her didn't mean there was any merit to it. Of course, there was still the other part that he didn't know . . . .

So she finally gave up and told Sam the truth, and as she laid it all out in front of him she felt apprehensive but also relieved that he now shared her secret. Although he seemed concerned, what she read in his expression was mostly just simple acceptance. When she admitted that her goal was to try and make Duncan look better, he actually smiled, and she knew he was thinking about that part of her that, as he'd said, believed in people because she knew they could be better. Right then, as much as she despised that part of herself—hated that it was so deeply engrained in her psyche—she realized Sam didn't. She figured it was probably one of the things he appreciated about her the most. And that was when her anger finally started to fade.

As she stood at the kitchen counter shaking her head in mock frustration, she couldn't escape the thought that Sam cared about her enough to genuinely appreciate how each individual aspect of her personality came together to make up the whole person. He accepted who she was, and he understood her.

Without her even realizing it, he was gradually sliding the rug underneath her feet, reminding her that she could trust him and more importantly, that he was going to be there for her. As time passed, he was renewing her confidence in who they were as a couple and what they might become. Their progress was slow, but gradually, it was happening and Andy was starting to believe in them again.

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><p><em>Andy told herself that she really did need to start moving. She was wasting time, and she was being far too careful. Drawing in a breath, she forced her feet to take a series of definitive steps, each one carrying her deeper into the forest. With each new footfall, she looked down, cautiously examining the ground beneath her to be sure that it was solid enough to support her weight. Gradually, she felt more confident in her stride and began pushing herself a bit further until finally, she looked back and realized she could no longer see the edge of the forest behind her at all. Just like that, she'd committed to the journey. She'd taken that leap, knowing that she would either be consumed by the forest or safely reach the other side, having successfully navigated all of the challenges and pitfalls that presented themselves along the way. <em>

As they drove back into Toronto, the truck was buzzing with nervous enthusiasm. With a slight tilt of her head, Andy eyed Sam from across the cab. When he caught her watching him and smiled, she grinned self-consciously and quickly turned away. Since Sam's confession about his father and everything that followed, the rest of the ride back from Milburn had been peppered with intense stares, furtive glances and suppressed smiles as swells of excitement and anticipation rippled and crashed between them. Not much was actually said, due in part to the fact that Andy didn't trust herself not to produce an embarrassing display of excited chatter that would only make her seem even more like the besotted idiot that she knew she was. As for Sam, he seemed happier and more at ease than Andy ever remembered seeing him.

When he whipped into the lot at 15, she looked down at her watch, marveling at how everything had changed for them in one afternoon.

"We should take more road trips," she remarked casually as Sam maneuvered the truck into a parking spot.

"You do love travel games."

"Well, yeah, there's that. But also, good things seem to happen for us on road trips."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "You call losing a prisoner in the woods a good thing?"

"That wasn't the good part," she told him with an impatient smile. "The good part was that we really connected on that trip and got to know each other better."

"I still went home alone, though," he reminded her. "Not sure I'd call that _good_."

"Maybe you'll have better luck this time," she said coyly.

"Maybe?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Probably," she supplied with a laugh.

"McNally, I think the word you're looking for is 'definitely.'"

"Wow. Such confidence," Andy observed lightly. She unbuckled her seat belt and pushed open the door, sliding easily to the ground. "Meet you back here in ten?"

"I'll be here," he confirmed, settling back against the seat to wait. To anyone else he would have seemed casual and confident, but Andy could clearly see that he was feeling vulnerable, as if perhaps the sudden separation after all he'd told her had him worrying that she might change her mind about them.

"Ten minutes," she repeated, looking at him with what she hoped was a reassuring smile as she shut the door and headed into the station to change.

Andy walked quickly, keeping her eyes focused on the ground with the hope of avoiding anyone who might want to talk. Her plan was simple: get in, get changed and get out. The walk from door to locker took half the time it usually did. As she spun her combination and flung open the locker door, she urged herself into an even faster pace, hoping to pack her usual fifteen-minute changing ritual into a more condensed ten-minute version. She glanced around her, glad to see that the room was mostly empty. She didn't have the wherewithal to carry on an intelligible conversation about anything other than Sam, and even then, she couldn't trust herself not to sound like a babbling teenage girl gushing about some boy she really, _really_ liked.

In her lifetime, Andy McNally had been told she was a lot of things—too trusting, moderately talented on the basketball court, loyal, even dogmatic. But never had anyone accused her of being a patient person. And that's because she wasn't. She was literally about to burst into flames. She was that ready to move things to the next level with Sam. As she thought of exactly how much she wanted him, she began moving even faster, whipping her T-shirt off and grabbing the plaid button-up out of her locker in one seamless movement. The tension between them had been building for a while, but since the kiss in his truck, it had become almost unbearable. Even worse was that they'd been there before, which meant Andy knew _exactly _what she was missing.

Button. Button. Button. Button. Andy's fingers moved feverishly up her blouse with only the slightest tremble. Beneath her flushed yet relatively relaxed exterior, she was a vibrating heap of raw emotions. There was anxiety, eagerness, hope and _d__efinitely_ excitement. As Andy pawed through her locker, she forced herself to take several calming breaths in an attempt to restore order to her mind and body.

By the time she moved to the mirror and dragged a brush through her hair she was insanely nervous, so as she scrutinized the face in front of her ruthlessly, she sternly muttered, "Andy McNally, pull yourself together." Four deep breaths and a definitive head nod later, and she was ready to go. Throwing her dirty uniform and a few essentials into her bag, she slammed her locker door shut and made quick strides toward the door.

As she exited the locker room, she stopped abruptly when she saw Sam leaning against the wall across from her.

"I thought you were meeting me at the truck," she said, making every effort to suppress a grin.

"Changed my mind." He pushed himself off of the wall and nudged her down the hallway toward the exit.

As he fell into step beside her, Andy watched him curiously, enjoying the fact that he'd come in to get her and wondering if he'd really done it because he was afraid she might not come back out. "Did you think I'd get lost?"

"You do have a pretty terrible sense of direction."

"I do not," she laughed.

Lowering his voice, he leaned in close to her. "That's okay. You're in denial. I get it. Sometimes it's hard to admit the truth to ourselves."

"You're impossible," she groaned, shaking her head at him.

"I ran into Oliver in the parking lot. I told him I was taking you home. Said you'd file your report in the morning."

In her haste to get in and out and on with their night, Andy acknowledged that she'd conveniently dismissed all thoughts of work. "Was he okay with that?"

"I think so," he said with a shrug. "He was on his way out anyway."

Casually, Sam reached over and took her hand, sliding his fingers between hers and tightening his grip. Automatically, she looked down at their joined hands before sweeping her gaze back up to his face. He was smiling, and she was powerless to do anything but mirror the gesture. Having his hand wrapped around hers felt amazing. It went a long way toward calming any anxiety she felt about the prospect of what was happening between them. Many times she felt tough and unbreakable, but on those rare occasions when she allowed herself to be truly vulnerable, she liked that she could rely on Sam to make her feel safe and protected. That was one of the things she'd missed most, because truly, he was at the top of a very short list of people who ever got to see that side of her.

As they passed through the outer door into the parking lot and Sam's truck loomed up ahead, she quietly said, "You were worried that I might not come back out, weren't you?"

"No."

"Really?"

"Maybe a little," he reluctantly admitted, opening the door to his truck for her.

Andy squeezed his hand, and met his eyes. In them, she saw a flicker of uncertainty that was quickly replaced by something lighter and more hopeful. "I really meant what I said," she assured him. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Me either," he echoed, taking her elbow and urging her up into his truck.

When Andy was seated, he closed her door, lingering for a few seconds with his fingers on the handle. In the window, she saw two faces—his image and her reflection—perfectly aligned with each other. As she reached up and touched the outline of their faces on the glass, he smiled softly before stepping back and heading around to the driver's side. Andy dropped her head back against the seat, and her whole body sighed. _Finally_.


	2. Chapter 2

_**continued from Chapter One**_

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><p><em>Andy lengthened her stride, grinding the crisp blanket of leaves and underbrush beneath her feet as she cruised through the forest. With each step, she increased her pace, no longer giving any thought to what she'd left behind. She was making good time and although she might occasionally wonder about the end goal, she was still so focused on the exhilaration of the journey itself that she hadn't given it more than a cursory thought. <em>

"The King is dead. Long live the King."

Sam, Andy and Oliver tapped their glasses together and knocked back the shots. As Andy swallowed hers, she steeled herself for the inevitable burn that would follow, wincing as the warm liquid singed her throat.

With a decisive thud, Sam deposited his empty shot glass on the table, announcing that he would "be right back." He planted his hands on the tabletop and pushed himself up out of his chair, leaning over to kiss Andy before loping off in the direction of the restrooms. As she watched him cross the bar and disappear behind the bathroom door, Andy simmered happily beneath a warm, pink glow.

Grinning broadly, she swung her attention back to the table, and her eyes landed squarely on the mirthful gaze of Oliver. "So . . . you and Sam," he observed, slowly sipping his beer with a look of smug satisfaction. "That seems to be going well."

"It is," she agreed, covering her face with her hands in an attempt to hide the smile she couldn't suppress. "_Very_ well." Sounding too dreamy even for her own ears, Andy shook her head and laughed.

"You know, I've always been able to appreciate the virtues of a well-deserved 'I told you so.'"

She dropped her hands back to the table and rolled her eyes at him. "Yeah, yeah, yeah . . . if we'd only gotten our acts together sooner, right?"

"Nope. I didn't say that. You two worked your way back around to each other when it was right for you. Life has a plan for us, McNally. Maybe the time apart was always part of that plan."

"Hmph," Andy grunted, taking a drink as she eyed him over the rim of her glass. "You're turning into quite the philosopher."

Chuckling to himself, he said, "It doesn't take a philosopher to see when something is right. It's just good to see you both so happy."

"Thanks, Oliver." Andy squeezed his arm lightly. "It's like we're finally in this place where we were always supposed to be, and now that we're here, I can't help but wonder why we resisted it for so long. I mean, it feels _incredible_."

"I assume you're talking about me," Sam said as he slid back into his seat. The second he landed in his chair, Andy felt the heaviness of his hand on her leg, and she immediately slid her hand beneath the table to rest it on top of his.

"We were just talking about how life has a plan for all of us," Oliver said.

Sam nodded in understanding, waving his free hand around dismissively. "Yeah, McNally believes in all that stuff."

"What stuff?" she laughed.

"Destiny . . . the Universe's plan . . . sparkles and fairy dust . . . ." He rolled his eyes to the ceiling in a dramatic show of forbearance.

"I'm actually surprised to hear you say that, Sammy," Oliver chided him. "I've never seen you this happy."

"That's because I've never been this happy," Sam admitted easily, tipping his glass toward Andy in a silent salute to his own well-being. "Still doesn't mean I'm a believer in fairy dust."

"Well you should be, Brother," Oliver insisted, "because you look like you've been hit with a bucket of it."

"Seems like I'd remember a thing like that," Sam responded dryly, appearing mildly discomposed by the turn the conversation had taken. Shaking his head, he grumbled, "Oliver, I thought we were here to celebrate your demotion."

"We are, we are," Oliver assured him. "What do you think, McNally? Is the Universe ready for me to get back out on the streets?"

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><p><em>The trip had been going so well that Andy barely noticed the fog until it was too late to navigate around it. Its thick, billowy tendrils slithered around her ankles, gradually tightening their coil around her. As the mist descended, deftly curling its fingers around branches and tree trunks alike, it seemed to choke all sound from the forest, leaving behind only an unnatural stillness. Andy slowly spun around, reaching the unnerving conclusion that all she could see in any direction was a heavy, grey mist. With no visual cues other than the fog itself, she suddenly felt disoriented and afraid. Her lips trembled involuntarily. Each breath came out raspier than its predecessor. As the fog squeezed her like a fist, she began to panic in earnest. Suddenly and with very little warning, she was trapped.<em>

_Then, just as the first tears stung her eyes, she heard a solitary whistling sound from the east, and she whipped her head in that direction. When a white dove emerged from the fog and landed on a nearby branch, Andy let loose a small, relieved smile. With each soft coo, the dove's breast expanded and contracted, creating a soothing rhythm that calmed her uneasy spirits. _

_Suddenly, the bird took to the air and circled above her expectantly until finally, Andy took several crucial steps forward. The dove seemed to approve, spilling forth an affirmative warble before setting off through the forest. Andy followed closely, and as it led her through the dips and sways of the forest, the dove somehow managed to steer around whatever perils lurked beyond the mist. The fog was still thick and the forest was dense, but she no longer felt alone on her journey. _

When her career started to unravel, Andy very quickly saw that Sam was there and that as bad as it got, he had no plans to go anywhere else. Quite often, she would take a break from her angry, indignant musings just to appreciate the significance of his presence in her life at all. A year before and he wouldn't have been there. That thought alone made his existence in her world so much sweeter.

So when she told him, "You get me through the night," there was no part of her that didn't feel the truth of what she'd just said with absolute conviction and certainty. At a time when she desperately needed something good in her life, he was a flash of gold in an otherwise dull reality. With each passing day, she relied on him just a tiny bit more, and what she was learning was that he was uniquely equipped to be that person for her. Depending on Sam wasn't a new concept—just more like the renewal of an old one. He loved her and he was there, encouraging her, supporting her and giving her pretty much anything she needed.

At no time was that more apparent than after Duncan's hearing. She'd felt so betrayed by Oliver and even though she knew Sam didn't entirely agree with her reasoning, he stood back and let her work through it on her own. And after her "clear the air" talk with Oliver, she found him waiting for her outside in his truck, just like he'd said he would be.

"Hey," she sighed, hoisting herself up into the passenger seat. Andy settled her bag at her feet and busied herself with her seat belt.

When she finally looked over at him, he was staring at her expectantly. "Everything go okay?"

"Yeah," she reflected with a thin laugh. "He actually said I was the best part of his day—by a long shot."

"Must've had a pretty terrible day," Sam noted, dropping the truck into reverse and steering them out of the lot.

"No kidding." She let her head fall back against the seat. "I actually think he used the term 'super crappy.'"

Sam reached across the truck and lightly massaged the muscles in her neck with one hand. As she felt some of her tension evaporate, Andy closed her eyes and muttered an appreciative, "Mmmmm. That's nice."

"You wanna head over to the Penny for a drink?" he asked uncertainly.

"Nope." Feeling sluggish, she slowly opened her eyes and looked at him. "I don't feel like dealing with people tonight. All I want is to go home and soak in a nice, hot tub with lots and lots of bubbles." Visualizing the warm, soapy water, she closed her eyes again and adopted a serene expression.

"Do you want me to drop you off at your place?"

"Drop me off?" she asked, looking over at him as she lifted her head off of the seat. "Why would you do that?"

"You said you don't want to deal with people," he reminded her, flicking his eyes to hers before returning his gaze to the street.

"Sam, you're not people," she groaned, leaning back against his hand again.

"I'm not?"

"No. _You're not_," she laughed. "When I said 'I don't want to deal with people,' you were specifically excluded from that group." Andy let her head roll to the side, aiming a pointed stare in his direction.

She could tell he was holding back a smile as he asked, "So . . . where are we going then? Your place or mine?"

"The answer to _that _question depends on whether you have a bottle of bubble bath in your bathroom cabinet."

"I . . . ." he began in a noncommittal tone. He removed his hand from her neck and scratched the back of his own thoughtfully.

"Actually," she said abruptly, wagging a finger at him, "don't answer that."

"Why not?" Sam let out a choked laugh as he looked at her in confusion.

"Well, _I've_ never taken a bubble bath at your house," she explained, "so if you have bubble bath, it's not mine, and I certainly don't want to think about how it got there."

"Maybe I just like to take bubble baths," he suggested.

"No, you don't," she insisted, shooting him an impatient look as she forced away all images of Marlo Cruz and any other old girlfriends who might have spent time in Sam's bathroom. "Let's just go to my place, okay?"

"Your decision." He flipped the turn signal, indicating that he planned to turn right at the next intersection. "But for the record, I don't have any bubble bath at my house, McNally."

"Good to know," she mumbled. The corners of her mouth turned up slightly as she relaxed against the head rest and closed her eyes again.

* * *

><p><em>Finally, the fog lifted. The dove gave Andy an encouraging nod and they parted ways. She smiled gratefully as it flew away, then turned her attention back to the task at hand. With renewed confidence, she plowed ahead eagerly, instinctively feeling that her trip through the forest was nearing an end. Not long after the dove left her, however, Andy stumbled upon an uneven, washed-out patch of earth. The ground was littered with thick, knotted roots, undoubtedly resulting from many years of erosion and neglect, and the damage extended as far as she could see in any direction. Her shoulders sagged in exhaustion, but she continued on. Navigating through the deeply-veined stretch of ground tested her resolve as she tripped and skidded from one eroded divot to the next, hoping to avoid any serious injuries that might delay her journey. Summoning her resolve, she forged ahead, but as the roots began to get thicker and more treacherous, Andy's confidence started to wane. And it was right then, when she needed it most, that she saw a small patch of daylight filtering through the trees up ahead. It was tiny and fairly insignificant, but it gave her a point of reference at a time when she was desperate for some encouragement. Aiming for that light, she pushed herself harder, knowing that she was getting closer to the forest edge and whatever was waiting for her there.<em>

Andy slowly pulled away from the curb outside of Ted McDonald's mother's house, tightening her knuckles around the steering wheel as she gritted her teeth and reminded herself to be gentle with Sam's truck. After all, he had trusted her to drive it home the night before—had actually _insisted_ because he knew he'd be working late—and she wanted him to feel good about his decision. So it was with a great degree of self restraint that she smoothly drove through the maze of squad cars and foot traffic littering the street when all she really wanted to do was hammer down the accelerator and get as far away from Marlo and her insipid coffee as possible.

As Andy drove toward the station, she was a bubbling, boiling, brooding mess. How had everything become so complicated in just one day? Marlo was back. Yuck. Marlo had brought Sam his morning coffee. Double yuck.

Of course, the coffee-wielding ex-girlfriend was only the most recent in an unfortunate set of speed bumps that had been thrown at her and Sam in the span of twenty-four hours. The first had been the key. Since refusing it, Andy had questioned her decision almost nonstop. He'd caught her off-guard and she'd acted rashly, letting her emotions persuade her into making what was quite possibly, a terrible decision. By far, the emotion that had been the driving force behind her refusal was fear. She was afraid of making a misstep and watching everything between them crumble for a second time. The idea of a key changing hands set off an alarm in Andy's head. And it wasn't just any alarm. It was an ear-splitting concoction of clanging bells and shrill whistles, drowning out all but the most persistent thoughts and impulses. Above all, Andy's instincts were reminding her that something given was something that could be taken away, which is exactly what had happened the first time.

She knew Sam must have realized where her mind was because he hadn't seemed overly concerned when she didn't accept the key. Afterwards, they'd seemed fine. They _were_ fine, Andy told herself, refusing to allow that the tiny issue of an unaccepted key could be the catalyst for Sam taking a renewed interest in Marlo. The idea was completely ridiculous, and Andy tried not to think otherwise as she drove toward 15 to get ready for her shift.

When she got to the station, she found welcome distractions in the form of a crying Chloe and Oliver's Ted McDonald update during Parade. So, for a time, she was able to forget about keys, ex-girlfriends and anything else that had the potential to send her thoughts into a tailspin.

After Parade, Andy wandered up to the Detectives' office, wanting to check in with Traci about the progress of the investigation. If she had a second underlying motive for the visit, she certainly wasn't willing to admit it, even to herself.

"Hey," Traci greeted her, looking up from several files spread out on the desk in front of her.

"How's the search going?" Andy asked as she hopped up onto the end of Sam's desk and looked over at her friend.

"Duncan's coming in to go over his statement in a little while. In the meantime, I'm reviewing these old files, hoping to turn over something to clue us in about McDonald's next target or where we might find the guy."

"Any word from Sam?" Andy asked, trying to evoke a casual vibe.

"Yeah. He's on his way back," Traci said slowly. "Everything okay with you two?"

"Sure. Everything's _great_," she said sarcastically. "Well, that is, of course, if the definition of 'great' is actually 'confusing and kind of messed up.'"

"What happened?"

Andy rubbed her forehead in frustration. "Ugh. I stopped in at the scene this morning to drop off a coffee for Sam. He worked all night, you know, so I figured he could use it."

"Being the dutiful girlfriend," Traci said with an approving nod.

"Yeah, well, when I got there he already had a fresh cup from _Marlo._"

"She brought him coffee?" Traci asked, screwing up her face.

"She did," Andy confirmed. "And I know it doesn't sound like a huge deal, Trace, but you should've heard her. She seemed so smug and proud of herself. Almost territorial."

"What did Sam say?"

"Not much he could say. He already had Marlo's stupid coffee in his hands."

"Did you expect him to decline it?" Traci asked.

"No. Yes. I don't know what I expected . . . ."

"Did you let him know that it bothered you?"

"Yeah," Andy laughed bitterly. "He knew. He says having her back here won't kill our honeymoon phase, but I just can't get past this feeling that having her around is gonna cause problems."

"Only if you let it," Traci pointed out. "And this doesn't necessarily have to be a bad thing. Maybe it'll force you to double down and think seriously about where the two of you want to go."

"What do you mean?" Andy asked, furrowing her brow.

Her question went unanswered, though, as Traci silenced her with a look, mouthing, "Shh. Here he comes."

Andy whipped her head around and saw Sam through the windows. He took the stairs two at a time, locking eyes with her through the glass as he approached the office.

Rounding the corner, his gaze bounced from Andy to Traci and back again. "McNally, you got a minute?" he asked in a deliberate tone.

"Sure," she sighed, rolling her shoulders uneasily as she slid off the desk.

Ushering Andy toward the door, Sam said, "Nash, we'll be back in a few minutes."

"Take your time," Traci assured him easily, immediately refocusing her attention on the files in front of her.

Sam stopped briefly in the doorway and looked back at Traci. "Diaz is going through a box of McDonald's personal effects, and Marlo's on her way back with some other evidence we picked up at the scene."

"Got it," she said, waving him away.

"Where are we going?" Andy asked as they walked down the stairs.

"Somewhere quiet." With one hand pressed lightly against her back, he steered her toward the interrogation rooms. When they reached Observation One, he opened the door and stuck his head inside. "Empty," he declared, swinging it open all the way and motioning for Andy to go in ahead of him.

"Sam, what's going on?" she asked, leaning against the glass with her arms folded across her chest.

In response, he slid a chair away from the wall and dropped down into it, planting his hands firmly on his knees as he looked over at her. "Don't you think we should talk about what happened this morning?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Andy said with a disinterested shrug. She felt irritable and edgy and she wasn't about to make things easy for him.

"This morning, Ted McDonald's mother's house, _Marlo_ . . . ." he prompted her in a bored tone.

Suddenly becoming more animated, Andy stiffly said, "Oh, you mean, when I showed up at the crime scene with coffee and your _ex_ very pointedly announced to me that _she'd_ already gotten you some?"

"It was just coffee," Sam said. "It didn't mean anything."

"Are you sure?" Andy asked defensively.

"Yes. _Yes_, I'm sure," he said, sounding agitated. "How can you even ask me that?"

Andy dropped her eyes to the ground, not wanting Sam to see how affected she'd been by Marlo's return. She'd spent the better part of the prior year watching him with Marlo, and the experience had left her feeling deeply insecure.

"Andy, what is this really about?"

"Look," she said with a sigh, raising her eyes to his again. "Having her back here hit a nerve, okay? It's just that, well, after you got shot, she disappeared and it was _really_ easy to pretend like she never existed. But now, she's here again, so . . . ." Andy shrugged, expecting him to fill in the rest with what she wasn't saying.

"It bothers you that she's back," he said evenly.

"_Yes_, it bothers me," she flung at him. "How could it not? I watched you with her for months. You were literally building a relationship with someone else—a relationship that _I _wanted when we were together."

Sam rubbed a hand across his jaw wearily. "Andy, none of that was real. It's always, _always_ been you. Even when we weren't together."

"It didn't seem like that last year."

"Well, it's true."

"Do you wanna know what I saw?" Andy charged ahead, not giving him time to answer the question. She didn't care how he responded because she wanted him to know. "To me, it seemed like you were really happy with Marlo."

"I wasn't," he said emphatically. "No more than I was with any other woman I've dated who wasn't you."

"Sam, you did all of these _things_ with her. Stuff that we never did together. And I had to watch it all happening."

"I watched you with Collins," he reminded her.

"You don't really think that's the same thing, do you? Nick and I dated for like three weeks. You were with Marlo for months. You went on trips. You did real couple things together. Things that you _never_ did with me," she insisted, flinging her arms out as she became more emotional.

"I didn't love Marlo," he uttered in a carefully-controlled tone, biting off the words as they exited his lips.

"Then why were you with her?" she demanded.

"Because I'm an idiot," he shouted. He ground his elbows into his knees and dropped his head into his hands. "What else do you want me to say? Everything was so messed up. You left. I wasn't sure when or if you'd ever be back. And I didn't know you still felt the same way."

"How could you not know? You don't just turn off feelings like that," she said angrily. "Well, maybe _you_ do."

"That's not fair. And also not true," he responded loudly, suddenly standing up and shoving the chair away with one hand. For several seconds, it teetered on two legs before landing on its side with a heavy thud.

"Maybe not," she conceded stubbornly, realizing she may have pushed him too far, "but it's how I feel."

"Do you want to know how I feel?" he asked. When she didn't answer, he continued, "I feel like no matter what, if you care about someone, if you _love_ them, you don't take off just because you've had enough of a situation. You stay and push through the hard stuff. You don't just run away."

"Sure," Andy agreed bitterly, trying to keep the tears at bay. "And if you really love someone, no matter how bad things get, you don't systematically tear them down and make them feel like they never meant anything to you. How much should one person have to take before it becomes too much?"

Silence greeted her last remark. He stared blankly at her, finally admitting in a quiet tone, "I never wanted to make you feel that way. Nothing felt right after Jerry died, and I could give you a million reasons why I pushed you away, but none of them make any sense now. The bottom line is, I made a huge mistake. I realized it and tried to fix it, but you left anyway."

"Okay," she responded on an exhale, holding up her hands, palms out, in what she intended to be a calming gesture. "I get that you expected me to stick around and somehow try to make things work between us. I really do understand that. And maybe I should have. I don't know. What I really need _you_ to understand is that by the time you finally tried to fix things between us, the damage had already been done. I felt like I'd been flattened, crushed, whatever . . . . After you broke up with me, you made it clear that you didn't want me around, and I finally started to accept that we were finished. I literally had to force myself to come to terms with that. How was I supposed to know you'd change your mind? Sam, you took everything that we were and threw it back in my face, and I was supposed to just know that it would all be okay in the end?"

"I screwed up," he told her. "And I spent more than a year hating myself. Thinking about what I could've done differently. How I could've been better. Been more of what you needed me to be."

She started to speak and he cut her off with a stern look. "Just listen. I know I hurt you. I get that. But no matter what I said or did at the time, I never stopped loving you."

"Me either," she agreed, letting out a heavy sigh. "When I left, I was just trying to protect myself. I wanted to feel whole again, and I thought the way to do that was to be somewhere else. If I'd stayed, I'm not even sure if I would've been able to be there for you after all that happened. A part of me wishes I'd tried, though, because in the end, leaving and having to come back only made everything so much harder."

"If you had asked me to wait—told me you needed time—I would've done it. No question," he assured her.

Andy expelled a long breath. "I know."

"Do you?"

"I think so. At least, now I do." Andy looked at Sam and noticed that he looked as raw and drained as she felt. "I won't leave you again," she said quietly. "I mean it. I'm not going anywhere this time. Do you worry about that?"

He flexed his jaw before finally admitting, "Sometimes. Just like you worry that you'll end up getting hurt again."

"Either we're the worst people in the world or we're just complete morons," she observed wryly.

"Morons," he confirmed, nodding his head slowly. "Definitely morons."

"Sam, what's gonna happen to us? Do you think we can get past this?"

"I do." His answer was automatic, and she had to wonder at his certainty. "If we keep moving forward, eventually we'll put enough distance between then and now, and it won't matter so much."

"It's probably going to involve a lot more discussions like this one," she reflected, teasing him with a smile and an arched eyebrow.

"I don't doubt it," he agreed, laughing deeply as opened the door and held it for her. "Let's table it for now, though. We need to get back out there and work on finding this guy."

"Agreed."

As they walked back down the hall together, he reached over and pulled her up against him, and that felt pretty good to Andy. She was glad that he felt comfortable enough to do it and that he didn't seem to care who saw them. So she decided to stay focused on that reassurance and use it to carry her through her afternoon.

* * *

><p><em>Up ahead, the small scrap of light became brighter and brighter, bleeding through the leaves on the trees ringing the forest edge. Eagerly, Andy began throwing out her arms in front of her, parting the tree branches as she pushed forward toward that light. Finally, she was able to see it clearly in the distance, and she knew if she could just keep going—push herself just a tiny bit further—she'd make it. <em>

Sam had been crying. Andy quickly realized that he'd thought she was dead, and in his face she saw panic, anxiety and above all else, intense fear. Having experienced that same fear firsthand, Andy knew it well. It was the fear of losing something so integral to your existence that you might never feel whole again without it. For her, that thing was Sam. And right there in the Evidence Room as he dropped down beside her, the relief she saw on his face told her that he felt the same way about her.

After Ford shot Sam, Andy remembered telling Dov that if Sam died, she felt like she would, too. The notion that someone else cared about _her_ in that same way—so much that he'd be lost if she ceased to exist—stirred something deep within Andy and forced her to acknowledge how much she actually meant to Sam. With that acknowledgement came the twin truth that she didn't have to be alone in life. She had someone with her for the journey, someone who was as invested in her as she was in him. As she sat beside him on the floor with her ears ringing and her pulse pounding, she told herself she'd be a complete idiot not to put her faith in Sam and what they could be together. From the far reaches of Andy's soul she heard a tiny, whispered reminder that giving someone else that much power over her was risky. In the past, she might have given an ear to such a plea, but this time, she brazenly ignored it, quickly squelching the fear that would normally arise from such a prompting.

Sam helped Andy to her feet, wrapping a strong arm around her waist as they limped out of the charred remains of the Evidence Room. Right then, Andy could see their future with such clarity that its force almost knocked her down, and she decided to put her confidence in the two of them and what they could become.

When she stumbled across some debris on the floor, Sam tightened his hold on her. "McNally, you have to lean on me," he reminded her. "Otherwise, you'll fall."

"I'm too heavy."

"You're not too heavy."

"Fine," she grunted as she let herself sag against him. "But don't get mad if I take you down with me."

He laughed to himself before assuring her, "That's not gonna happen, but if it does, I'm okay with it. At least we'll go down together."

_Standing near the forest edge, Andy stared at the striking display in front of her. With its richness and opulence, the view was almost too overpowering to process all at once. Ahead of her was a lush sweep of land filled with roaring waterfalls, grassy meadows and towering mountains. Mossy outcroppings and shady thickets sprang up from fields of fragrant blossoms that gently swayed in the warm breeze. Amidst tall, leafy plants, rocky rivers cut through the landscape, creating an uneven display of jagged lines across the varied terrain. Every aspect of the magnificent vista ahead seemed unique and exciting._

_As Andy's eyes swept across the incredible spectacle, she no longer felt afraid. With so many incredible adventures and so much beauty waiting for her, she was anxious to move forward and experience it all firsthand. So, smiling to herself, she took one step forward and then another, not bothering to turn around and look at the forest behind her. That journey had come to an end, allowing her to finally focus on what lay ahead: The beginning._


End file.
